


The Boy

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Gen, Not a Happy Story, the blood of angry men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:19:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sound of marching echoed around them like drums. They rose to attention, holding their ground. They did not run, not after what they had seen. They stared at the road silently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy

A young boy lay in the abandoned pub. His eyes saw nothing, his heart no longer played the steady beat it had done for the last decade; the child was an empty shell. 10 years of memories destroyed, wasted, lost. Yet he seemed the most peaceful of the men strewn across the street. He had an innocence to him that made his attacker’s tears mix with those from his friends. The people who had trembled in their beds listening to the screams of the condemned had let them down. The rebel’s defiant song had rung out in to night long after their last breath had escaped their lungs.

In time others replaced the boys and the people who had once cowered in their homes would rise up with them! They brought down their oppressors and were free at last. Afterwards they would remember the crumpled figure of the boy in the pub and the others who had perished in the hope of a brighter tomorrow.

But during the ill-fated battle which the boy fell victim to the call of the boys had fallen on deaf ears. Not a single person had taken up their call. The few survivors crouched by their friends in quiet vigil. The friends who had reassured them that they were sure to win, the friends who hadn’t hid when the action started, the friends who had fought till their last breath they had ceased to exist. The students who had once roamed the streets would never be seen there again; their voices would never be heard and their faces would soon become dim in the minds of the people who had been close to them. Each still body was a dagger in the men who lived.

No man was able to look the others in the eye. Until then they had thought they brave it all, now they knew how fragile humanity was. Their lives just kept falling back to the same old story; they were poor, they rebelled and then they were killed. It had been the same for generations. Except now, they had survived, they would be made an example of. No doubt in their minds they would come to a grizzly end. But they didn’t care, the only family they had ever had were lying on the floor already decaying, rotting away. The massacre that had taken place on the road would not be forgotten. They would not run, they wouldn’t waste the lives they had been granted. They would show other revolutionaries they were not alone and they would rally the people.

The sound of marching echoed around them like drums. They rose to attention, holding their ground. They did not run, not after what they had seen. They stared at the road silently. 

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism appreciated! Thank you!! :)


End file.
